


First-Class Loser

by Aewin



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, Alternian Empire, Bulges and Nooks, F/M, Karkat Has Gills, M/M, Moirails With Pails, Multi, Polyamory, Rainbow Drinkers, Use of Exorbitant Troll Movie Titles As A Scene-Betweener, Vaginal Fingering, Xeno
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-11-30 14:20:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11465361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aewin/pseuds/Aewin
Summary: Eridan's a blast from that past that you'd rather forget - and it turns out Kanaya put him behind her too (albeit with much less subtlety). But no matter how hard you try,you just can't shake him off.Like any logical, Condesce-fearing person looking away to get away from their problems, you go to the bar.Retrospective note to self: with the bar comes alcohol, and with alcohol comes bad decisions.





	First-Class Loser

**Author's Note:**

  * For [twofoldAxiom](https://archiveofourown.org/users/twofoldAxiom/gifts).



> Title shamelessly stolen from the Dropkick Murphys' "[First-Class Loser](https://youtu.be/qvjfr1nu3Go)" because it's the common opinion of Eridan in a nutshell.
> 
> Given the exchange stipulation that you can gift an ongoing work, I will be posting another chapter (or maybe two, if it works out like that) somewhat soon. I'm not sure if it will be before the author reveal or not, but I'm having a ton of fun with it and it's coming to me a lot more naturally than the beginning here so I want to make sure it's in tip-top shape for a release.
> 
> More tags to be added after the update!

Eridan’s jaw makes a _supremely_ satisfying crunching noise when you punch him into the wall.

Yours, unfortunately, makes the same one when you get punched back.

“You absolute, vomit-inducing _nookstench._ ”

“The _fuck_ , Kar? That any way to greet an ol’ pal?” He wipes at the trail of blood oozing from the corner of his mouth. “Sure, we didn’t part on the best o’ terms, but shit happens, an’ I-”

“No,” you spit, and bare your teeth. “Well, shit happens, but that doesn't cover ‘ _accidentally’_ killing someone’s lusus and dragging it off to feed an eldritch monstrosity. You knew what you were fucking doing, and now that Fef’s gone, you passed that so-called ‘duty’ onto some _other_ poor schmuck to do for some _other_ poor heiress so you can prance around on _my fucking battleship_  like some kind of high and mighty war hero.”

“O’course I fuckin’ well knew, but it ain’t like I had a choice. ‘Sides, this is where I was I was stationed, not like I can help bein’ here.”

You back away, glaring at him. There’s a poor rustblood engineer half-frozen in the corner of the room, and he obviously doesn’t know what to do. Frankly, you don’t either, but you can at least spare _him_ the headache. You wave him out, and he scampers like a squeakbeast.

“Your barnacle-encrusted ass is preemptively kicked off my goddamn ship at the next stop, and you should be thankful I’m such a saint or you’d be off _now_ in the middle of Alterra with your gills flapping in space. How well do gills work in a vacuum, I wonder? Ring ring, Zahhak, new research project! One live seadweller specimen included as a starter bonus!” You kick at the floor to let the universe at large know just how pissy you are.

He has the gall to look offended, but when Kanaya walks past him on her way into the room, his fins twitch and he shuts up. It’s fucking magical. You don’t know the history there, but you make a note to ask her, because you’d really like to be able to shut him up that fast.

Her face scrunches up for a second. (You can fucking sympathize.)

“Hello, Eridan. I thought you were dead?”

“W-well, you thought wrong,” he says stiffly.

“Yes, it was made fairly obvious that my assumptions were incorrect when I walked in here ten seconds ago. Pardon me for not yet being acclimated to the idea.”

A bit of white glow creeps up her cheeks, and you put your hand on her shoulder to steady her. You don’t _quite_ want him dead. He’s a shitstain, but he was one of your closer acquaintances at one point, and you can never quite bring yourself to kill those. (Well - you probably would have killed Sollux, but it would have been out of mercy.)

“Okay now that we’ve had our little rendezvous, can we agree this is-”  

The intercom crackles on. _Crrk — captain — Alterran atta — chikkk — ships — chrrhhkkk —_

You sigh. “You’re gone after this.”

Kanaya steps on him on her way out of the room, and you smile at the pitiful yelp he makes. Maybe it heralds a newer, better night.

———

It does not, in fact, herald a newer, better night. It just gets worse from there. You lose an auxiliary ship to the Alterrans, your number one helmsman almost burns out, and the cantina is out of your favorite fried grub legs.

“Maybe if I divert course we can find a place that sells frozen grub legs by the box,” you muse, as Kanaya slips into the bubbling pool with you.

She murmurs in approval and slots herself in behind you. You sink down a little bit, letting your gill flaps go underwater, and relax into her. Fuck Zahhak’s theory that rumblespheres are vestigial. They’re obviously pap primers.

“Are you okay?” she says, sliding her hand down your side. You can taste a bit of blood in the water, no doubt left over from all the surgery she’s done today. It runs through your system when you draw it into your gills. Teal, you think. Unfortunately, you have to resurface to respond.

“Yeah. I mean, no, but I guess? Ugh, I just…why did it have to be him?”

Her hand grazes the lips of your nook, making you shiver, then she twists and pushes a finger in. You choke back a moan. Her lips brush your ear, and she speaks into it while she slowly fingers you.

“I imagine it is because the universe likes to fuck you even more than I do.”

Your cheeks burn, and your toes squirm at the bottom of the pool, pushing you further back into her. You can feel her bulge out, squirming against your ass. It’s been a weird ride, getting to this point with your moirail, but, well, here you are, and here she is, and neither of you have a concupiscent quadrant at the moment. You’ve got needs, and apparently relieving yourself together is one of them.

Your bulge slips out and wraps around her hand without stopping to ask you for approval. It shunts her hand to the side and probes at your nook lips, struggling to fit in alongside the fingers barely managing to stay in. You grunt in what is probably a vastly unsexy manner, and turn around to face Kanaya. Her rumblespheres nearly smack you in the face when you do so. It’s probably best to stand up completely, considering she’s about a head taller than you.

“C’mere,” you say, breathless. You pull her towards you and into a hug, but the unexpected movement just unbalances her and she ends up against the wall of the pool again, bubbles rising around both of you. You giggle and she snorts a little, but she pulls you back to her this time. Your bulges twine, and you press you lips to hers lightly. Her hand traces down your neck, making you shiver. Her touch against your aching jaw soothes it like ice never could.

You wedge your hands between her and the pool wall, massaging knots out of her as you go. She’s always tense, overworked, hungry. You can’t imagine what it takes to not feed on every fucking patient. When she was assigned the job you worried about that, since she used to have a problem with it, but she’s acclimated to being a rainbow drinker and you don’t think she drinks patients’ blood…much. When you got together, you found out the occasional slip-ups are the reason she wears mostly black lipstick.

She melts against you, and you purr, satisfied that you’re relaxing her too. Her lips leave yours, leaving behind a smear of gloss, and she presses them against your gill flaps, making them flutter in a mixture of excitement and terror. It’s impossible to keep purring like this, so you settle for a moan.

Something goes _thump_ behind you, and you spring apart, but the feces has already hit the whirling ceiling device.

Of _course_ it’s Eridan. It’s straight out of every shitty movie in the Grubflix library. Antagonist causes pappus interruptus and everything goes to hell. Of course you're living a trope — you lost any semblance of control over your life a long, long time ago, when the Empress her mother-fucking self handed you a form-fitting, mutant-red uniform.

There’s a duffel bag beside him on the floor, presumably what made the noise. His fins are twitching, and even from several feet away you can see purple tinging his cheeks. Anger or embarrassment? You can’t really tell.

“God, Kar. I knew you had quadrant issues, but I didn’t think you were a quadrant-blurrin’ _whore_ like this. Disgustin’.”

You want to punch him again. You’re _perpetually_ in a state of wanting to punch him again.

“You want to talk blurring? Let’s talk about all those pesterlogs about Feferi.”

His fins droop. “Fef’s different. She’s…she _was_ …special.”

“And you’re implying my moirail isn’t? That’s a good way to get yourself tossed out an airlock.”

He sneers. “Nothin’ special ‘bout a jade that ain’t doin’ her duty in the caverns.”

You glance at Kanaya, who seems supremely unconcerned. She’s reapplying lipstick. In the fucking pool. Her dress is hanging off the edge, half-submerged. She probably dragged it in there just to get the lipstick.

God, she's such a pitiful wreck.

You turn your attention back to Eridan.

“Piss off, cuntwaffle. We were having a moment.”

“Yeah, an’ it sure as hell ain’t purifyin’ the pool. Get out yourself, us noble seadwellers require water untained by mudblood material.” He sniffs and crosses his arms.

You tense, and glance at Kanaya.

“Go ahead,” she says, capping the lipstick.

Moirail permission to flip your shit: achieved. You step up out of the pool, making sure your flexing muscles are fully visible as they pull you over the sides. Eridan stiffly draws himself up to his full height and flares his fins, but you are five hundred percent done with his shit today and you refuse to be intimidated. You grab him by his shitty-ass cape clasp and yank him back down, intentionally fluttering your gill flaps. You’re pretty sure he didn’t notice those. Maybe that'll shut him up about the seadweller bullshit.

“Listen, I know you think you’re all high and mighty, but nowadays I’m the one in charge. Like it or not, I am your fucking superior.” Your bulge is still out, pulsing angrily.  _Now is really not the time_.

He pulls back and hisses at you. “Ain’t nobody my superior ‘cept the Empress her coddamn self.”

You shove him away. Feferi would flip her cute, terrifying shit if she were alive to see him fishpunning.

“I own this pool. I own this ship. I own the rights to _all_ piscine puns in a 5-sector radius. And I own your _ass_." You punctuate each point with a stab of your finger at the ground. "The Empress _gave_ all of the above to me for — and I quote — ‘exemplary deeds in the name of the Empire.’ Remind me again when she said that to _you?_ ”

Kanaya cuts in.

“You know, we could always have the brownbloods drag him out. Or, to save time, I could do it myself.” She smiles with more fang than is technically necessary.

His voice cracks a little on the response. “W-well, I’m gonna be the bigger man here an’ leave you to your bath. But make sure it’s open for me later.” His voice firms up a little at the end, but the confidence is offset by the fact that he’s retreating. He leaves his bag, though. What a first-class loser.

You flop back into the pool and onto Kanaya, and mumble into her chest.

“What the actual grubfuck did you _do_ to him, Kanaya?”

Her hand slides smoothly down your back, splashing through the water and calming you again.

“Well, as you were mentioning before your grub leg cravings interrupted, he wasn’t known for being a lusus-friendly individual.”

Your chest tightens as you look up at her. Even as her moirail you can’t quite decipher the look. She’s holding her feelings in, and you hate that. It feels like you're failing.

“Did he—”

“He tried.” She sighs. “He failed, of course, because there is only so much one can do against a chainsaw when you’re trying to fight with a rifle. I dumped the body — _and_ the gun — in the desert, where nobody but the undead should have found them. I’m surprised — and against my better judgment, a little impressed — that he survived. I have no idea how.”

“Oh.” Okay, that _is_ a little impressive.

You lapse into a comfortable silence then, running your fingers through each other’s hair and massaging the bases of your horns. (You love Kanaya’s horns; when you finger the sensitive tips even the slightest bit, she practically purrs.) But try as you might, you can’t banish Eridan from your mind.

_Ughhhh_. You need an orgasm.

But more than that, you need a drink.

You throw a towel at Kanaya and parody a line from your favorite film, “In Which A Sheltered Misfit Becomes Insider Within A Cult Of Elite Women And Loses A Love Interest To One, Spurring Her To Apply Fattening Grub Bars To The Situation, The Misfit Is Betrayed When The Target’s Malicious Diary Is Made Public Under Her Name, Said Betrayer Is Brutally Injured By A Scuttlebuggy Causing The Misfit To Take The Fall, The Misfit Regresses To Her True Nerd Nature Yet Becomes Schoolfeeding Empress, And The Empress Crown Is Divided As A Symbol Of A Stalemate Within The Cadre. Contains One Onscreen Injury And Plenty Of Sick Burns. Suitable For Trolls 6 Sweeps And Above.”

(Fuck, you love that film.)

“Get dressed, loser. We’re going to the bar.”

**Author's Note:**

> With the bar comes alcohol, and with alcohol comes bad decisions.
> 
> I hope you'll join me to watch bad choices unfold.


End file.
